Hermione Granger and the Yule Review
by Andromeda797
Summary: Draco Malfoy thrusts himself back into Hermione's life at the Yule Ball. Hermione's ready to admit her feelings, but things aren't so easy for Draco. When their encounter goes awry, he accidentally releases Hermione's desire, his mirror-self, from the Mirror of Erised. Much fluff and fun. Vaguely GoF but further out of canon, Dramione.
1. Chapter 1

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership - this is all done for a bit of fun.

* * *

Hermione sighed, her fingers idly gliding along the gold silk of her dress. All of the other Gryffindor Girls had been irrationally excited at the re-instatement of the Yule Ball at the school, and despite her wish to remain neutral and observant, she couldn't deny that the excitement had touched her as well. The costumes, the food, the dancing... it had promised to be a magical evening. Yet here she sat - bored and unattended - on the outskirts of the revelry. The notepad in front of her had been filled a full twenty minutes prior, all ready for her review of the traditional ceremony in the Christmas edition of the _Wizarding Student Times_.

Hermione had always enjoyed writing but had no specific plans to stay in journalism after Hogwarts; being the editor of the Hogwarts student paper was just another thing to pass the time outside of classes. Of course, her quiet interpretation of journalism had been shattered the day that Professor McGonagall introduced a new features editor - Malfoy. Draco had been his usual arrogant and egotistical self at the start of their work, but by the end, she couldn't deny that her feelings towards him had changed. Sometimes she even thought that Draco's feelings towards her had changed in a similar manner, but his actions had suggested the opposite. His temporary stay at the paper had ended a month ago and he had made zero contact with her since. _Silly, foolish girl_ , Hermione chastised herself.

The Yule Ball had certainly lived up to its reputation, with the Great Hall now redecorated in the fashion of an ice castle. Snowflakes sparkled and danced above the students, while the floor shimmered, producing an iridescent blue hue on the walls. Many of the girls were in stark contrast to the icy theme, clad in red, purple and pink silks, while the boys looked smart in their dress robes. The ball was a costumed affair, with the laziest of students opting for a simple masquerade mask. Truthfully, Hermione now felt slightly embarrassed by her attempts to accentuate her gold mask. She had spent an hour decorating the edges with strips of red, gold and orange satin, which she had then intertwined with her own plaited hair, trying to mimic fire. Her elemental costume was not the most conspicuous however, and many of the teachers had outdone her with an animal theme. Professor McGonagall made a majestic peacock with full plumage, while Dumbledore resembled a fuzzy pink elephant, his trunk drooping over his beard. Harry also seemed to be regretting his costume choice, which had involved an antler-horn headpiece. Twirling around the room with a fifth year dressed as a weeping willow, her branches had become irreversibly tangled in the antlers and both had left the ball in a sulk.

The whole picture, Hermione had decided, was otherworldly. Even the music held an ethereal quality, a combination of classical and electronic instruments, played live by a spangled group of goblins. Hermione had been so entranced by the sound that she didn't notice the arrival of Ginny. The red-headed Weasley had chosen an emerald green dress with a flowered mask in favour of her date, Neville, who had an aptitude for herbology. 'Why don't you ask Seamus to dance?' The question made Hermione jump.

'Oh, Ginny, it's just you,' she smiled, an undertone of disappointment to her voice.

'Who else might it have been?' The young witch replied with a frown. Hermione shrugged in response. 'So, what about Seamus?'

'What about him?'

'Ask him to dance,' Ginny rolled her eyes.

'He's my work colleague on the paper, I couldn't do that,' Hermione replied, affronted at the thought.

'That never stopped you daydreaming about Dra...'

'Ginny!' Hermione shushed.

'Fine, fine.' She held her hands up in surrender and sat down at the table. Neville appeared with two overflowing goblets of punch, and handed one to Ginny with a bow. This resulted in the spilling of his own drink, sending a cascade of red down his white shirt. Ginny seemed thoroughly tired of her partner, flinging three turquoise napkins in his direction. As the clumsy wizard began to pat himself dry, she had a sudden idea. 'Take Neville.' Neville looked at his dance partner in confusion.

'Take me where?'

'Take Hermione for a dance, Neville.'

'Oh, no...' Hermione tried to protest. Neville, however, had received his commands - before Hermione could blink the pair were in the centre of the dance floor, her being pulled around to a jaunty jig. _At least it's not a slow number_ , she thought appreciatively, as a spritely goblin went into a saxophone solo. Neville was a surprisingly good dancer, but nervous, and was trying to allay the awkwardness with his plant-based knowledge.

'... Professor Sprout was quite impressed with my mandrake splicing. I was hoping to produce an underwater variety akin to those of the Russian genus...'

He gave her a quick dip in time to the beat, and at the brief pause during her minima, light caught her eyes. Neville pulled her back up and they began twirling around the dance floor once more, Hermione casting her head every which way to determine it's origin. Once she had spotted _him_ , it was hard not to - he was a newcomer to the floor, clad from head to toe in shimmering silver fabric. A layer of ice crystals and diamantes ran across the robes and over the boy's head, creating cohesion between his white eye-mask and costume.

'... then of course I realised I'd picked up the sobbing pansies, not the screaming ones, so I'd mistakenly depressed the entire greenhouse...'

The unknown boy was a veritable ice prince. In between her glances, she noticed the expressions of other dancers - all had their eyes on him. He seemed to move between the twirling couples with determination. Hermione was enraptured.

'... but of course they set themselves on fire if you leave a candle too close...' Neville paused, pulling Hermione to a halt. The ice prince had tapped Neville on the shoulder, forcing a premature end to his herbology anecdote to silently request Hermione's hand. Without waiting for her approval, he swept her into a twirl, one cool hand against her waist and the other intertwined with hers. The music moved into an almost sorrowful violin piece, so beautiful that Hermione felt herself floating away from reality.

That is, until the ice prince spoke.

'Have you missed me, Granger?'

* * *

Author's note: So I seem to be leaning towards a trilogy of-sorts, with this being the immediate sequel to Surprise Editor. It takes place roughly a month after Surprise left off, and we're now totally out of canon. If you haven't read Surprise Editor, you should still be able to follow this.


	2. Chapter 2

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Draco. She didn't know whether to be surprised or angry, until he smirked at her reaction. _Anger it is_.

'Let go of me,' she tried to pull herself free from his grip, but Draco was determined not to release her. Their twirling increased in intensity, his waltzing skills clearly more defined and dominant than Neville's. He pulled her closer at the waist, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

'Hey, I was doing you a favour, getting you away from that bore Neville.'

'So, what? I'm supposed to believe you're my knight in shining diamantes?' He dipped her, and when she came back up against his torso, she could see that he was grinning.

'If that's what turns you on, Granger.'

'Why aren't you dancing with Pansy? You're back together, I know.'

'Why? Thinking of starting a gossip column?'

'If I did, it'd hardly focus on your life. I've got bigger fish to fry.'

'Oh?' Another dip, and this time her torso came into contact with his with more force. She felt like she would have bounced from his chest if he hadn't held her waist so tightly.

'Viktor's been seeing two girls behind Lavender's back,' Hermione nodded towards Fleur, who was spinning around the floor with an older Hufflepuff, 'Fleur Delacour isn't as young as she keeps telling people,' she then glanced in the direction of Colin Creevey, who'd somehow managed to be invited to the ball, 'and Colin's been sneaking into Harry's dormitory and stealing his underwear.'

The young wizard, hearing his name and the accusation, quickly stuffed something back into his pocket and glanced around nervously. Draco laughed.

'I've missed...' he stopped himself.

'You've missed what?' Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

'... the paper. How's it going?'

'Fine,' she replied, disappointed. 'The Christmas Eve edition is just waiting on my review of the ball. It'll then be printed and sent off to any subscribing students not staying over the holidays.'

'And Agorbius?' Hermione smiled weakly.

'You know, I haven't seem him around in quite a while.' She glanced away from him, embarrassed that his charms had broken her cool determination. 'Did you come here just to talk about the paper?'

'Not really.' He spun her outwards, then pulled her back. As she twirled towards him she stumbled, and Draco grunted as her elbow dug into his stomach. 'I think we should stop dancing, too.' He relinquished his grip and the pair stood opposite one another on the dancefloor, panting, while the other couples continued to twirl around them. Draco said nothing and Hermione chastised herself mentally once more, for ever believing he could change.

'Goodbye, Draco,' she said, turning on her heel. He reached out to grab her arm, pulling her back.

'I want us to go somewhere else, where there aren't any prying eyes.'

'Why?' She placed her hands on her hips.

'We need to talk.'

'We can talk here.' Draco was becoming painfully aware that the two of them had begun to attract notice.

'Please, Hermione.'

* * *

Hermione had acquiesced to Draco's wishes and found herself trailing behind him in silence. They'd ascended staircases, moved along corridors she didn't necessarily recognise... _he seems to know where he's going_ , she tried to reassure herself. However, she was wearing heels, and had little patience for this game. 'Draco,' she pleaded, coming to a halt. 'Where are we going?'

'We're nearly there.' He stopped halfway along the corridor, paused, then turned back to walk in the opposite direction. Hermione made a displeased noise and turned to follow him, but found that he had turned yet again, moving in the original direction. She pouted.

'Did the glitter go to your head? What _are_ you doing?'

Draco passed by her once more, then moved to stand in front of her. 'We're here.' Gesturing to the blank wall behind them, Hermione glanced back to see that a door had appeared, where previously there had been none. 'Well?' He asked, expectantly, when she made no move to open it.

'... I'm pretty sure my parents told me not to enter rooms which don't exist with strangers.'

'Strangers?' He smiled again, leaning close, and reached towards her. Hermione flinched, but his touch was gentle, extracting an errant pink feather from her hair. He ran the feather slowly down the side of her face and she found her breath catching, her senses driven into hyperdrive by its soft caress. 'You know me,' he dropped the feather to the floor, and Hermione watched its path, blushing.

'Probably from Cedric's costume,' she suggested, trying to fill the tense space between them. 'I think he's meant to be cupid.' Draco held his hand out for hers,

'Do you trust me?'


	3. Chapter 3

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Perhaps foolishly, Hermione did trust him, at least enough to follow him to a strange and unknown part of the castle. _What's the worst that could happen?_ She asked herself, trying to block all the flashbacks from Hogsmeade which popped up in answer. Draco pushed open the thick, worm-eaten door. The much-anticipated room was simple in design, stark in its features. The floor was simple limestone, the ceilings cavernous, with a large, gilded mirror propped against the right wall. A battered oaken table stood opposite it and light filtered into the room from a stained glass window. Draco frowned, walking across the threshold.

'This room was a lot more interesting the last time I came here.' Hermione followed tentatively after him, while Draco had begun examining the architecture. 'It didn't look anything like this before.' Hermione's mind jumped back to a passage in her favourite book.

'Draco... I think you've found the room of requirement.'

'Huh?' He paused in his inspection of the window lintel to stare back at her.

'The room of requirement. I read about it in Hogwarts: a History. It's supposed to be myth.' Hermione now found her own eyes roaming around the cavernous space. 'It's not on any map of the school, it was purported to reveal itself to students who had a need of it. How did you find it?' Draco pouted and moved past her to sit on the edge of the table, while Hermione found herself taking baby-steps towards the mirror.

'I don't know. I just wanted some time to myself. I was pacing in the corridor and this door appeared.'

Hermione's eyes followed the gold filigree along the mirror's edge, up to the top gilding. Under a thick layer of dust, there appeared to be words engraved onto the frame, but she was too short to brush it away. She looked deep into the glass. Behind her, Draco swung himself off the table and sauntered over, placing a hand possessively on her hip. His lips began to brush the nape of her neck, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

She glanced back, away from the mirror's surface. Draco was still sat on the table, watching her with a perplexed expression. Her eyes turned back to the glass where Draco once more stood over her shoulder, shooting her a smouldering look. Her hand moved to touch the glass.

Sighing, the real Draco jumped from his perch and moved across to her, waving a hand before her eyes to catch her attention. 'I didn't know you were so vain.'

'Do you know what this is?' Her voice was pained, and the desperation in her eyes confused him even further.

'A mirror?' He scowled. 'You're being weirder than normal tonight, you know.'

'What do you see?' Draco cast a haphazard glance at the glass, then back to her.

'I see a gorgeous, platinum-haired young man stood next to Hermione Granger.' He smirked, 'what did you expect...' She cut him off, taking a step forward to kiss him. Draco stumbled backwards in surprise, but his arms instinctively moved around her waist. He pulled her back towards the table without breaking the embrace, then moved his grip lower onto her thighs, lifting her up to sit on the edge of the table. His hands ran gratefully across the silk of her dress, pulling it up above her knees. The kiss was hot and heavy, Hermione's desperate urging only paralleled by Draco's desire.

Hermione pulled away first, only by a few inches, to catch her breath. 'Draco Malfoy,' she said, scolding him playfully, 'just wait till your father hears.' Hermione's joke had the opposite effect, with a flash of pain contorting Draco's features. He pulled away from her forcefully, turning his back on her. Hermione frowned, her body still craving his touch.

'Draco...' She pleaded, feeling exposed on the edge of the table. He ran his hands through his hair, then turned to glare at her.

' **Why** did you do this to me?'


	4. Chapter 4

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

'Draco?' Hermione let herself down from the table, readjusting her dress. She took a step towards him, but he grimaced, staggering back and holding up a hand to stop her.

'Stay away from me!' Hermione flinched at the disgust in his voice. She'd been so naïve. 'Do you think I could ever be seen with a... a...'

'A what?' She demanded. 'Go on, say it.'

'A filthy mudblood like you,' he spat. Hermione had been expecting the words, but they still cut like a knife. She felt the tears welling up behind her eyes and tried her best to suppress them. 'Go on,' he took a step towards her. 'Go on and cry about it. Go cry to your little Potter about it.'

Her fists clenched, and she contemplated slapping him, but didn't. She simply stood opposite him, the tears beginning to stream down her face. _What's the point? You could never hurt him like he's hurt you._

'Go on, get out!' He screamed at her.

'You're so damaged,' she managed to mutter before a sob caught in her throat. It was all she could do to stop herself running from the room. Turning her back on him, she opened the door then paused at the threshold. 'You stay the hell away from me!' She shouted over her shoulder, choking back another sob.

After she'd left, Draco moved over to the door and slammed it closed, then pounded one fist against the wood. _That infuriating, manipulating witch!_ He turned his back to the door and slid down into a sitting position, staring at the hands which moments before had been caressing her skin. Hermione may not have intended her words to be the wake-up call they were, but those six little words had been enough to conjure his father's reaction in his mind. The sneer, the look of contempt. It wouldn't only be his father who would react in such a way. Draco would be seen as equally tainted as Hermione, if not more, for turning his back on his pureblood heritage. He would lose his friends, his family, his position in society. _And for what? Some silly mudblood girl?_ If he were in his right mind, he would never have given her a second glance. If they hadn't been forced together. If she hadn't bewitched him.

Yet he still wished that she were there on that table, under his hands. His eyes moved from the table to the large, gilt mirror. He could see his reflection, the pale boy sat against the door. _Weak. Pathetic. Alone._ Driven mad by his conflicted emotions, he pushed himself up and aimed a curse at the glass. The mirror split in two with a mighty crack, stress fractures branching out towards the frame before the entire thing collapsed. Silvered shards skittered across the floor and bounced off his shoes. With a sigh, he turned his back on the destruction and left.

* * *

The atmosphere was thick with despair and desire, as if the words of the previous occupants had left an emotional imprint on the room. The glass shards began to roll slowly backwards towards the mirror, gaining in speed as they reached the gilded frame. Large and small pieces of silvered glass floated through the air and began to fuse together, moulding and reshaping themselves to form the body of a crouched figure. As the last pieces of shattered mirror incorporated into the man, he took on colour, reflecting back the mirror's last desire.

He moved upwards into a standing position, the silver fabric of his costume uncreasing itself, then ran a hand through his pale, blonde hair.


	5. Chapter 5

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Hermione had rushed through the castle and up to her dormitory unmolested, much to her relief, as the suppressed emotions had now begun to erupt in loud, ugly bursts. Through tears she looked at the happy paraphernalia of her partying school friends, which had been carelessly strewn about the room - Lavender's clutch collection, Padma's jewellery box, Ginny's make-up. All the girls were still at the ball, no doubt lost in a haze of glitter and dancing. Only an hour ago, there had been the possibility of Hermione's own magical evening. Instead the night had crushed her, all the glamour of the Yule ball blown away by the words of a cruel, unfeeling Draco.

She'd had the internal argument about Draco Malfoy so many times now, it wasn't worth revisiting. Hermione simply cried herself to sleep, wishing that the night would end.

She was woken up an hour later, by a sound she only vaguely heard through her blankets. There was a sudden patter against the window, and she sat up in the bed. _It's probably Hedwig_. A third patter, more insistent, and she resigned herself to getting out of bed. She pushed open the windowpane and jumped, startled by what she saw - instead of Harry's fluffy white owl, Draco was floating alongside her tower. Somehow he had conjured a floating disc of air, magic Hermione had not stumbled across in her pre-emptive studies, and was still in his ball attire. He lay on his side, propping his head up with one arm, his knees splayed apart in a sexy pose. One hand lay across his chest, resting above his heart.

'Hermione, my love...' His smile crushed Hermione further. 'Have you been crying?' He frowned, looking as if her sadness truly pained him. That was enough to snap her out of her daze.

'What are you doing here?'

'I couldn't bear to be apart from you any longer.' He floated closer. Despite the way he'd treated her, she still couldn't control her feelings - she wanted him.

'Damn you, Draco Malfoy.' Her hand moved for the windowpane.

'Wait!' He reached out for her. 'Why do you treat me with such cold disdain?' He was practically close enough to crawl in through her window now. 'Have I wronged you?'

'Do you think I'm easy?' Hermione scowled, angry. 'Do you think you can come here and act all apologetic and I'll let you do whatever you want again?' She didn't wait for a response, and slammed the window in his face. 'Piss off!'

Draco continued to float at the window, looking forlorn, so Hermione pulled the curtain shut.

'Oh, Hermione,' Draco whispered at the cold glass, casting no reflection on the window. 'I'll prove my love to you.'

* * *

'How was your night, Hermione? I saw you go off with that cute guy. Was he a Durmstrang?' Ginny asked, cheerfully munching on some toast. Ron sat beside her, spooning baked beans onto his cooked breakfast.

'It was no-one,' Hermione replied, trying to remain emotionless. 'I just went back to the dorm.'

'But you left your notepad.' Ginny extracted it from her robes and pushed it across the table.

'Oh. Silly me.' Hermione's tone was still emotionless, worrying Ginny more. It was like the spark behind her eyes had been covered up, shielded from the real world. Ginny glanced sideways at Ron and nudged him in the side, trying to urge him to comfort his friend. He grunted through a mouthful of black pudding, then stared at her.

'What?'

'Help Hermione,' Ginny whispered to him. Ron pulled a face and returned his attention to his sausage, while Hermione stared at her orange juice, dejected. Something dropped from a height and plopped into the juice, causing a small splash, and both herself and Ginny turned their gaze upwards. Owls had begun to drop off the morning's post, with one owl in particular flying backwards and forwards above the pair with a bouquet of white roses dangling from its talons. The tawny owl dropped the bouquet and it landed with a thud in the middle of the table. Ginny pouted,

'Is it for you or me?' She asked, hopeful. Hermione's denial was cut-off by a loud shout from the bottom of the table.

'Bejesus!' Seamus shouted, as a bouquet of wild flowers fell into his porridge, splattering him with milk.

There was a shout from the other end of the table, and Hermione watched as a young witch began to fan an unconscious Colin Creevey with a napkin. He had been knocked unconscious by a Christmas rose.

Suddenly chaos erupted.

A torrent of owls began dropping bouquets and single flowers, turning the great hall into a war zone, with every student for themselves. The Ravenclaws jostled with the Hufflepuffs to get out of the pansy firing-line, while Blaise Zabini ran around the hall in a frenzy, entangled in bundles of baby's breath. Dumbledore stood up from the head table and tried to call for order, but was taken out by a rogue magnolia.

Ron glanced up, a half-chewed sausage rolling around his open mouth. 'Cor, 'Mione, are all these for you?' Ginny grabbed her brother's robes and quickly pulled him under the table, the only place of shelter. She pulled the shell-shocked Hermione under by her ankles.

Neville sat a few metres away, rocking back and forth in the semi-darkness, muttering to himself. 'It's happened,' he said suddenly, his terrified eyes locked on Hermione. 'The plants have come for me.'


	6. Chapter 6

The Harry Potter universe and all its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

The victims had been numerous, Madam Pomfrey's sick ward overflowing with students. Admittedly, most of the injuries were minor, but until the culprit had been found, all those who had come into physical contact with the flowers were being kept for observation. While it seemed unlikely that anyone with serious malicious intent would have flower-bombed the school, the teachers were inclined to being overprotective, especially since Harry's first ordeal in the Triwizard tournament. Professor McGonagall was interrogating Fred and George Weasley at that very moment, immediately suspecting the twins of instigating such mayhem.

The few remaining students who weren't confined to gurneys had been consigned to the clean-up effort, stuffing the flowery detritus into grey sacks for disposal. Ron had been annoyed at having his breakfast interrupted and had christened the event 'the War of the Roses.' That was, until Ginny pointed out that the majority of the packages had been other flowers, sending Ron back to his dormitory in a sulk.

'Do you think Fred and George did this?' Hermione asked, pushing a handful of lillies into her bag.

'I'm not sure it's quite their style,' Ginny replied, tying off her own sack. She grimaced, trying to suppress a sneeze. 'Are you nearly done? This room is setting off my allergies.'

'Sure,' Hermione picked up another sunflower and added it to her bag, then tied it off. The two girls exited the great hall, dragging bags of wilting flowers behind them. They had been ordered to leave all collected refuse in the central courtyard, so Hagrid might compost their contents.

The corridors were filled with loitering students, many moving between the great hall and the courtyard at a snail's pace in an attempt to shirk their cleaning duties. Some of the cockier students, particularly the Slytherins, were not even making an effort to look busy - they simply milled around the foyer doorway, making snide comments to one another. The mountain of collected bags lay only a few steps outside of the main entrance, and the pair deposited their bags gladly.

'How is Neville taking it?' Hermione asked, deliberately avoiding the gaze of Blaise Zabini. Ginny brushed the pollen from her hands.

'I don't know. Hagrid had to drag him out from under that table. Hermione...' Ginny pulled her robe, dragging her to a far corner. 'Can we take a break? I smell like I've drowned myself in perfume, and I must've caught myself on a thousand thorns...'

'If we don't keep going, there won't be a hall for Ron to have his dinner.' Hermione replied, making Ginny frown.

'I'm sure you could get Dobby to send some sandwiches up to him.'

'Dobby is not Ron's slave.'

'I know, I know. He just knows where the kitchen is. I didn't say he _had_ to make the sandwiches.' Ginny sighed, noticing the lily stains on her sleeves. 'My robes are a mess, and no-one else here is helping.' Hermione extracted her wand and muttered a quick incantation, the fluff and pollen falling away from the young Weasley's robes. Ginny opened her mouth to thank her, but was cut off by the sound of pomp and ceremony.

Draco had appeared in the doorway of the main entrance, still clad in his ball attire from the night before. The white and silver costume was blinding in the sunlight, and cast fragments of light onto his Slytherin friends, like a human glitter-ball. They all looked at him in confusion, but he only had eyes for the two witches on the opposite side of the courtyard. He took a few steps down onto the cobbles, a small group of first years with musical instruments trailing behind him. Their entrance song quickly shifted to something more modern, moving into the chorus of the Weird Sister's 'Loving Fields,' a song Hermione was only familiar with through Ginny's incessant playing of the track. Draco smiled across at her, blowing a kiss in their direction.

'Oh, won't you come down to the loving fields with me...' He began to croon. The other students in the courtyard, who had only been mildly intrigued by this turn of events, were now watching Draco with uncertainty. Ginny herself was caught between horror and amusement, biting her lip in anticipation of either emotion's dominance.

'Oh, my love, let's go down to the fields.' Draco did a quick twirl in time with the rhythm, then slid sideways towards them. He fell onto his knees, pulling a clenched fist down slowly, in time with his decreasing timbre. 'Uh-woah, you're gonna go down!'

Ginny noticed the expression of horror on the other students' faces, particularly the Syltherins, and let out a cross between a giggle and a shriek. As her outburst faded, the courtyard became quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Crabbe, one of the dimmer Slytherins, started to slowly clap until Blaise's glare stopped him. The other loitering students began to giggle and gossip behind their hands, watching for Hermione's response. The young witch felt a blush rising in her cheeks while Draco waited eagerly at her feet.

'My love...' he prompted. _He's mocking me. In front of the entire school! Mocking me!_

She slapped him hard, the resulting crack bouncing off the surrounding walls. This was enough to silence even the most amused students. Draco looked back up at her from the cobbles, holding his cheek. Hermione didn't wait for a response but stormed out of the courtyard, Ginny desperately trying to keep up with her.


	7. Chapter 7

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way trying to claim ownership.

* * *

'That was, ah, interesting?' Ginny suggested from the tweed armchair in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione paced backwards and forwards in front of her, still seething from Draco's serenade.

'I can't believe it,' she shrieked between gritted teeth, her hands emphasising her horror.

'Hermione, you're bleeding.' Hermione sat down on the adjacent sofa and examined her palms. The hand that had slapped Draco was lightly covered with small scratches. Leaning closer, she used her fingernails to extract a tiny glass shard from one of the cuts, and held it up to show Ginny.

'How did that get there?' She wondered aloud.

'It serves you right for slapping him.'

'Well...' Hermione grimaced. 'I suppose I did react rather immaturely. But the way he thinks he can treat me! You've seen how he's been acting?' Ginny sat silent, her hands folded in her lap. 'Ginny?' Hermione pleaded. 'You can't say he didn't deserve it.'

'I didn't have you down as the jealous type, Hermione.' Ginny stood up from her seat. 'You may not approve of him, but our love is a true bond. A secret connection that until now was only communicated in looks and glances. He's finally taken the effort to prove his love for me.'

'... what?' Hermione was confused.

'Each one of those flowers was a forbidden kiss to me, each one proving his love further.' The young Weasley held a hand over her heart and sighed wistfully. 'He serenaded me with my favourite song. He has such a lovely singing voice.'

'... You're joking. You're not serious.'

'I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand.' Ginny glared at her once-friend. 'He loves me.' She began to twirl around the room, her hands still clasped above her heart, humming the Weird Sisters. Hermione was flummoxed. 'Soon we'll be together forever,' Ginny suddenly sung.

'No, you won't!' Hermione pushed herself up from the sofa and stared at her friend. 'He wasn't serenading you. Any history you think you have, Ginny, it's in your head.'

'You're just jealous.'

'Ginny, you've never even kissed him. I have, _many_ times.' Ginny paused in her twirl, her eyes filling up with tears. 'I've made out with him more times than he's even spoken to you, Ginny, and those flowers and that song were for me!' The ferocity of her outburst surprised her, and she wondered why she was defending Draco's opinion of herself so fiercely. Ginny let out a sob and ran up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Abandoned, Hermione sat back down in front of the fire with a sigh. _What in the hell was going on here?_

* * *

The library was reasonably quiet, with most students still being held at the infirmary or helping in the clean-up effort. Draco was proud of himself for having avoided either situations after the flower incident, and had been keen at work in his potions homework for Professor Snape. He signed his name to the bottom of the essay with a flourish, then began to pack up his belongings.

He encountered the Weasley twins lingering outside the third aisle. He had barely even registered them, but upon spying him, they looked at one another gleefully. 'Ah, if it isn't the prima donna,' Fred chuckled, moving his arm around Draco's shoulders.

'No, no, dearest Fred. Prima Donna is the female singer.' George moved his arm around Draco's shoulder from the opposite side, pulling him to a halt.

'I know what I said, George.' Draco pushed the brothers away and turned to glare at them. George smirked, raising his eyebrows.

'Who are you going to go down on, Malfoy?' George asked. 'I can't remember.'

'Oh, I thought he was telling someone to go down on him.'

'What are you two idiots talking about?' Draco demanded.

'Why, your serenade in the courtyard earlier.' George answered.

'Perhaps we should recreate the event and spark his memory, dear brother?'

'Only if I get to play the terrified young witch of your affections,' George replied with a grin.

'I wouldn't have it any other way.' Fred puffed out his chest and pulled a duck-faced pout, then bellowed,

'Come down to the loving fields, my love!'

The outburst caught the attention of the few other students in the library. Draco, utterly confused, began to walk away from the twins, but Fred and George followed him eagerly.

'Oh, my love, my love,' Fred sung in a deep baritone.

'To the loving fields, go down baby,' George followed, trying to achieve an even deeper voice.

'For the last time, what are you talking about!?' Draco snapped, chucking his books on the nearest table. Fred frowned at his brother and began to stroke his chin, while George pursed his lips.

'I think that slap from Hermione must have been harder than we thought.' Fred suggested.

'I think you're right, brother.' George agreed.

'Amnesia,' the two twins answered in unison.

'You're both mental,' Draco shook his head and walked away, deciding to abandon his books. _What in the hell is going on?_


	8. Chapter 8

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way trying to claim ownership.

* * *

Fred and George's words had been playing on Draco's mind for hours, but it wasn't until Blaise Zabini deliberately moved away from him at the dinner table that he knew something was truly wrong. Draco was hurt but made no comment on the snub, instead sitting down opposite his ever-faithful cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. While Goyle looked distinctly uncomfortable with this arrangement, he made no move to leave. Crabbe, in contrast, was too pre-occupied with his steak and kidney pie to notice the goings-on.

Draco intertwined his fingers and surveyed the two Slytherins. 'Someone's been spreading rather strange rumours about me.'

'Rumours like what?' Goyle replied, nervous.

'I'm not sure.' Draco grabbed a glass of pumpkin juice and sipped it slowly, watching his friend's awkwardness. 'Something to do with a Weird Sisters song. You wouldn't know anything about that?'

'Um...'

'Goyle,' Draco insisted, a hidden threat in his tone. Crabbe glanced up from the half-eaten pie, his mouth stained with gravy.

'It's not a rumour if you did it,' he added. Goyle glanced at Crabbe in horror.

'Did what?' Draco asked, now focussing his attention on the weakest link.

'Started singing in that courtyard, at that mudblood girl.'

'What?' Draco began to frown at the table, increasingly perplexed by the day's events. 'When did it happen?'

'This morning,' Goyle offered.

'I did no such thing.'

'But we saw you. Everyone saw you.' Crabbe replied. 'You're a good singer.' The compliment was cut off by Goyle, who had given his comrade a swift slap on the shoulder.

'That wasn't me,' Draco insisted, but his tone was more defeated than defiant.

'It sure looked like you.' Crabbe replied.

'You say I sung to Hermione?'

'Hermione.' Goyle scoffed, disgusted at such familiarity.

'That Granger girl,' he quickly replied, trying to brush it off. 'You know what I mean.'

'Yeah, you sung at Hermenee,' Crabbe agreed, his accent butchering the name. 'She gave you a good old slap for it, too.' He added with a quick chuckle.

The two friends noted Draco's expression and fell silent out of fear. Draco couldn't believe it. _She's tried to humiliate me in front of the entire school because of what happened at the ball. That unbelievable witch._ _She must have cast some sort of illusion spell to make it look like I serenaded her. And I'm the damaged one?_ Draco's thoughts on how to deal with the situation were interrupted by a hungry Crabbe. 'You gonna eat that?' He asked, pointing at Draco's plate with his fork.

* * *

The revelation that Hermione was now out to destroy him had removed his appetite. He supposed he ought to be proud of her cunning and creativity. Never in a million years would he consider doing what she had done. Minor physical violence, harassment, teasing, sure - those were his usual go-tos. Her attempt to crush him had style, a finesse that he could only hope to achieve in the future. That she had chosen the Weird Sisters deliberately had reminded him of the evening she had snuck into his dormitory. All the sensations and emotions from that night now battled with his immediate desire to retaliate.

He decided to wander around the grounds to clear his head and get a plan in order. Pausing at the main entrance, he looked out at the dark courtyard where hours prior, he had reportedly sung out his feelings. The dark cobblestones and arches gave nothing away, no hint to the crime against his character.

A dark shadow moved in his peripheral vision and he turned 180 degrees. The foyer was empty. A tap on his shoulder made him jump and he turned back, only to be tackled into a hug by another student. He glanced down at his attacker in confusion. 'What the...?' He mumbled, pushing the young witch away. 'What are you doing!?'

'Oh, Draco, my dearest.' Ginny replied eagerly, her hands clasped against her chest. 'I knew you'd come back here for me tonight.'

'Um...' Draco wasn't entirely sure what was happening. He opened his mouth to enquire but Ginny quickly placed a finger against his lips.

'No, my sweet, no more words. We don't need them.' Draco brushed her arm away.

'Look, Ginny, where's Hermione?' Ginny's loving expression contorted into one of gall.

'Hermione,' the young witch spat. 'Hermione? You want to know where Hermione is?' Her pitch began to increase, hurting Draco's ears. Ginny looked like she was going to explode in anger, but instead crumpled to the floor in tears. 'You used to love me! What's so special about her?'

Draco glanced around the foyer, now hoping that another student would come along to deal with the problem. Sobbing girls were not his area of expertise.

'Um... Ginny...' he tentatively moved a hand down to tap her shoulder, trying to be comforting. Ginny quickly seized his hand and kissed it.

'Oh, you do love me.' Draco snatched back his hand and took a step back. She suddenly looked angry enough to kill. 'Are you going to her?'

'Ginny,' Draco warned, holding up his hands to gesture for her to keep away. Ginny pushed herself up from the floor and reached into her robes. The witch extracted her wand, tears still streaming down her face.

'If I can't have you...' a shaking hand began to point the wand squarely at Draco's chest, 'then nobody can!'

'Ginny,' Draco began to plead, wide-eyed.

'Don't you see?' Ginny took a step forward to him. 'She's trying to tear us apart. This is the only way we can be together!' She inhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down. 'I've never done the killing curse before, so you'll have to forgive me if it takes me more than one try.'

Draco attempted to run, turning his back on her, but she quickly responded with a leg-binding curse. He fell onto the stone floor with a dull thud, and turned back to face up at her. _This is it. Killed by a Weasley._ He thought to himself, incredulous.

'Miss Weasley, what on earth are you doing?'

* * *

Author's note: Definitely kudos here to that Buffy episode. If you've seen it, you'll know which one I mean.


	9. Chapter 9

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

As he lay there on the floor, constrained by the leg-binding curse, Draco couldn't help but wonder if this was just another facet to Hermione's plan. The threat of being murdered by Ginny Weasley, of all people, had truly terrified and confused him. It was only with the time bought by McGonagall's stern lecture and dismissal of Ginny that he was able to get his heart rate in check. The young red-head looked unhappy but obeyed the Professor's words, blowing a kiss in Draco's direction before running up the stairs to the Gryffindor dormitory.

'Let's get you up, Malfoy,' McGonagall said. She uttered a quick counter-spell to release his legs and bent down to pull him up into a standing position. 'Oh dear, your nerves must be totally shot. I know just what will calm you down.'

'Thank you, Professor.' They were words he never thought he would utter, especially to the head of Gryffindor. McGonagall led him along the corridor and into her office, where a large fire was happily burning away in the hearth. She deposited him in the chair closest to the fire, then sat down opposite, waiting for him to collect his thoughts. 'I'm sorry, Professor. I really don't know how that happened.'

'Now, Mr Malfoy,' she replied, crossing her legs. 'There's no need to be coy.'

Draco's brow furrowed and he watched as McGonagall enchanted two tumblers to fly from the sideboard and into her hands.

'Firewhiskey?' She offered.

'I'm not old enough...' McGonagall smiled in a way that made Draco's insides squirm.

'I won't tell if you won't.'

'Um...' Draco pushed himself up from the chair, and began to back away. McGonagall stood up and pouted at him.

'Why, Draco, where are you going?'

'I think I need to lie down.'

'But we were just getting to the fun part,' the Professor replied, licking her lips in a lascivious manner. Draco gulped. He encountered the wall and began to move his hands wildly behind his back, searching for the door handle. McGonagall began to stalk towards him, a hunger in her eyes. His hand latched onto the cool metal and he forced the door open, almost tumbling out into the corridor. He quickly legged it away from the office. 'Don't you want your extra-credit?' McGonagall called after him.

* * *

Panting, Draco came to a halt at the far end of the castle. In his desire to escape he hadn't paid too much attention to his journey, and now had to figure out the correct way back to the Slytherin dormitory. Still repulsed, he wandered around the adjacent corridors, looking for any telling features.

He stumbled across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy with relief, realising his proximity to the _Wizarding Student Times_ office. He'd initially decided to delay his confrontation with Hermione, but with everything else going on... he shuddered. He was going to confront Hermione now. Draco stalked down the corridor to the correct door, then forcefully pushed it open. The door slammed against the internal wall but there was no Hermione in residence - only a tired looking Colin Creevey, flicking through negatives. The younger boy glanced up and smiled.

'Hello Draco. Looking for someone?'

'Doesn't matter.' Colin pushed himself up from behind his desk, picking up his camera.

'Hey, since you're here, I have a few ideas for the paper.'

'I'm not on the paper anymore,' Draco replied, mildly irritated. Colin moved the camera to his eye then snapped a photo of Draco in the doorway. The flash blinded him.

'I want to do a photo-shoot with you. Something avant-garde.' Colin smiled even harder. 'You're so... _photogenic_.'

Draco recoiled, his mind jumping back to Colin's obsession with Potter. 'Oh no...' he mumbled, backing away from the approaching third year.

'It would be very tasteful,' Colin reassured, his finger twitching on the flash button. 'They'd only be for... _personal_ use.'

'Stay away from me.' Draco made a mock cross with his fingers, and brandished the symbol threateningly at Colin. He wasn't quite sure why. 'I mean it, Colin, you stay away.'


	10. Chapter 10

The Harry Potter universe and it's characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Hermione had abandoned all thoughts of having dinner, being too preoccupied with the strange events of the day. She had remained sat by the fire since her argument with Ginny, unresponsive to any other students' attempts to socialise. Eventually the common room crowd had left, their stomachs growling, and she was left alone to dwell on her feelings. Colin Creevey was the last to leave, skipping down the steps from his dormitory and quickly pinning a few new photos onto his bulletin board before heading down to the great hall.

Now abandoned, she stared into the flames, brooding. _How can he still hold so much power over me?_ Hermione resented how even after the cruel way Draco had continued to taunt her, she still wanted him. It took more effort than she had to stop the memories of their brief times together, particularly the encounter in Professor Binn's broom cupboard. She shook her head. Clearly, all her self-respect had gone out the window.

Hermione sighed and pushed herself up from the armchair. _I might as well be morose in my own bed_. She paused at Colin's bulletin board, hoping that his latest additions might improve her mood. A few weeks ago he had posted a semi-nude picture of Harry kissing his pillow, a photo so amusing that she'd made a copy of it, so she might emotionally blackmail him with it later. There was no such luck. To Hermione's surprise, the board had been partitioned in two and now featured a second muse. On one half were the old photos of Harry, but the other... 'Malfoy,' Hermione growled. Her eyes roamed over the photos - Malfoy at the breakfast table, Malfoy in the library, Malfoy pulling that sexy, concentrated pout at a large history book. _MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY! Ugh!_ Hermione took a quick breath and slowly exhaled, trying to calm herself down. 'I don't know what you're up to,' she said pointedly at a photo of Malfoy holding his broom, 'but _you_ can wait till morning.'

Hermione ascended the staircase slowly, the exhaustion hitting her all at once. She was now happily resigned to her plans for an early night - some fluffy pyjamas, a cuddle with Crookshanks, some light reading and she'd be as good as rain. She pushed open the door to her dormitory and suddenly realised she wasn't alone.

'Wuh...' She was so confused by the sight that she lost her words. _Am I hallucinating?_

Draco Malfoy was in her bed. He was under her covers, his body angled to face hers, the duvet just skirting over his hips, giving her a full view of his chest. He propped his head up with his left arm, smiling licentiously. To add insult to injury, he wasn't alone. _The betrayal._ With his right hand, Malfoy was stroking her ginger pussycat.

'Crookshanks!' She called, infuriated. The cat glanced up, surprised at being caught by it's master and jumped from the bed. It quickly scarpered between Hermione's legs and down the stairs to the common room. 'How did you get in here!?' Hermione demanded.

Draco smirked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The movement caused the duvet to slide lower. She quickly held up her hands in front of her, trying to block any accidental flashing of flesh from her view.

'Why don't you come join me?' Draco asked, his voice sultry.

'Boys aren't allowed in here!' Hermione insisted, utterly perplexed by how he had managed it. _How could a fourth year overcome ancient magic?_ She thought back to the incident where Harry and Ron had attempted to come up to her dormitory, and been forced to ride the stair-slide all the way back down again.

'Hermione,' he beckoned, tilting his head. Her eyes fell onto his left cheek, where she had slapped him earlier. There were small lines branching outwards, as if he'd burst veins across his cheekbone. She didn't dwell on it, as Draco suddenly grabbed the corner of her duvet to pull it off himself entirely.

'Nope!' She quickly shouted, turning on her heels and running down the stairs.

Things were getting too far out of hand. She needed to speak to Professor McGonagall about this.


	11. Chapter 11

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

'Now, Miss Granger,' Professor McGonagall gestured for her to take the seat opposite the desk. She had been lucky to catch the Professor before she retired for the evening. Hermione now found herself back in the familiar office, with a pot of Earl Grey brewing on the hearth. 'What seems to be the problem?' Hermione adjusted her robes, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

'Ah, well, Professor, I've been having some problems with another student.' McGonagall sat down and reached for a sheet of parchment and her reading glasses. Hermione waited until she had assembled the necessary writing materials.

'Go on.' McGonagall encouraged, her quill at the ready.

'He broke into the girls dormitory earlier.' The Professor nodded, beginning to scribble down a report.

'Was it Potter or Weasley?' She asked. Hermione blinked.

'Neither, Professor. It was Draco Malfoy.' McGonagall looked up from the parchment and peered over her reading spectacles at her, curious. Hermione forced herself to hold the stare. The Professor sighed and removed her glasses with a frown, then folded her hands on her lap.

'Have you two had a lover's spat?' Her tone was almost hopeful and Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion.

'No, Professor...' McGonagall made a _tsk_ noise and ripped the parchment in two.

'Miss Granger,' she stood up from behind her desk. 'I don't think you want to file this complaint.'

'But...' Hermione began to protest, but found herself obeying McGonagall's gestures to leave. The Professor herded the young witch towards the door, then opened it for her. Hermione paused at the threshold. 'Professor,' she insisted, 'he shouldn't possess magic capable of overcoming the dormitory wards. Aren't you going to investigate?' McGonagall shrugged, nonplussed. 'He was in my bed.'

McGonagall's expression became distant.

'Professor?' Hermione asked, breaking the teacher's daydream.

'In your bed?' McGonagall looked down at her. 'My dear, I should be so lucky.' With that comment, she gave Hermione a quick push out the door and closed it. Hermione stared at the office, amazed by her teacher's reaction.

'I suppose that only leaves one option,' she said aloud. With a new purpose, she turned on her heel and headed towards the dungeons.

* * *

'And why aren't you taking this up with the head of your own house?' Snape drawled, unhappy at being interrupted in his class prep for the next day. Hermione shivered under her robes, unsure whether it was due to the chill in the classroom or her chilly reception.

'I did...' She began to plead, but the Professor interrupted her.

'And why did Professor McGonagall not deal with this matter?'

'I don't know. But he's your student...'

'Hm,' Snape paused, pensive. His gaze lingered on Hermione, making her feel uncomfortable. 'Fine, the problem?'

'Draco Malfoy is overstepping a line.' Professor Snape rolled his eyes, diverting his attention back to the cauldron bubbling on the table. He picked up a handful of dried leaves and dropped them in, causing the colour to change from a dark green to a pale pink colour.

'I have already heard of his romantic gesture in the courtyard, Miss Granger. The students' love lives do not concern or interest me.'

'Professor, he broke into the Gryffindor dormitory. He was in my bed.'

'How do you know he was in your bed?' Snape narrowed his eyes.

'Because I found him there!' Hermione exhaled, fed up of not being taken seriously. 'The wards on our dormitories have been there for centuries, a fourth year shouldn't be able to overcome them. Something's not right.' Snape scowled at the contents of his cauldron.

'Once again, Miss Granger, the love lives of my students are not my concern. I am busy.' Clearly, she had been dismissed. She left the classroom, seething.

* * *

Draco's passage from the _Wizarding Student Times_ to the Slytherin dormitories had been an exhausting one. On the walk past the potions classrooms, yet another strange encounter had occurred. It had culminated in a terrified Draco being chased all the way to the Slytherin common room by a ravenous bunch of Gryffindor girls. He had thought he recognised Katie Bell from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but had been too pre-occupied with his escape to double-check. At least, in the safety of his common room, none of his fellow students had attempted to ravage him.

Until things were sorted out, he didn't have much of a choice but to sit in his chamber and curse Hermione.

His brooding over the situation was interrupted by a swift knock at the door. With a sigh, Draco pushed himself up from his desk and went to answer it. Professor Snape looked displeased, his arms folded over his dark robes. 'Mr Malfoy, I believe we need to have a word with one another.' Draco moved aside, letting the Professor into his room.

Snape now frowned at him from inside his chamber. Draco moved back to sit by his desk. 'What's this about?' he asked.

'Miss Granger has complained about your behaviour towards her. I suggest you... _desist_... in your affections.' Draco couldn't believe it.

' _My_ behaviour towards her? Are you serious?'

'She told me that you were responsible for the incident in the great hall this morning, and that you broke into the Gryffindor dormitory this evening to hide in her bed.' Draco's mouth fell open.

'She's mental, Professor... I never did anything. I don't even know where the Gryffindor dormitory is.'

'You're saying you have no idea what she's talking about.' Draco nodded and leant forward in his chair,

'In fact, she's been harassing me. I don't know what she's done, but suddenly all the students I'm encountering want to jump my bones or something.' Now Snape was speechless. He sighed, tired of the whole affair, and the effort he'd had to expend coming down to the Slytherin dormitories. He moved to the door.

'Just don't harass her again, Mr. Malfoy, or I'll have to contact your father.' Snape paused in the doorway and glanced back at his student. 'You and I both know how he would feel about your... _situation_.'

* * *

 **Author's note** : I feel now is the time to say, that while I've set this in fourth year (as the climax of the Triwizard tournament changes everything and I think ruins the chance for a fun relationship between D/H) I'm always picturing them as a bit older, more like 6th/7th years - otherwise it'd be a bit weird.


	12. Chapter 12

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Hermione had slept badly, refusing to go to bed until an older prefect agreed to check the dormitory. The resulting dark circles under her eyes had been a perfect excuse to stay in the castle on the blustery Saturday morning, while the other students were trekking across the grounds for the Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match. Once the corridors were empty, Hermione snuck down to the library, hoping to find some solace in its books.

* * *

Draco had no choice; he had to leave the safety of his chamber. His anti-social streak had proven a boring endeavour and there were several pieces of outstanding homework in urgent need of completion. What few books he could find in the Slytherin common room weren't helpful. How could ' _How to Poison your Foes and Get Away with It'_ or ' _Cursed Artefacts and Where to Find Them'_ help with his Divination and History of Magic essays? _Who even put these books in here?_ He had no choice - he had to go to the library.

He timed his excursion through the corridors with military precision, trying his best to avoid any other students. As he crossed the threshold into the library unmolested, he let out a sigh of relief. It appeared that the library was completely empty, with the exception of the resident librarian. Draco ditched his homework on an empty table and moved over to the stacks, looking for the divination section.

The Mythology and Prophecy books were confined to the far corner of the fourth aisle. He tilted his head, eyes roaming the volumes for one on Norse gods. Professor Binns had set an essay on the use of magic in mythology, and Draco had a natural proclivity for Thor. The desired book was bound in red leather and sat on a shelf at waist height. Upon removing it, he realised he could see straight through onto the fifth aisle, where a pair of eyes glared back at him. Draco recognised them immediately.

* * *

'You!' Draco snarled, suddenly appearing at the mouth of the fifth aisle. Hermione jumped, dropping her Witch-Lit. She bent down to pick up the battered book.

'Stay away from me,'

'You,' he repeated, pointing at her as she straightened. 'You witch!' He took a step towards her and Hermione reacted instinctively, flinging the small edition from her hands at him. The book caught him in the shoulder and he swore, stopping in his tracks. Hermione grabbed a larger tome and raised it threateningly.

'Come any closer, Malfoy, I dare you.' Draco narrowed his eyes and shoved his hands in his robes.

'You think it's real funny, don't you?' He growled.

'I'm not laughing,' she shouted back, still gripping the book.

'You scheme it up with your girl gang, huh? What's next, they're going to kidnap me and sacrifice me to a greenpickle?' Hermione narrowed her eyes,

'It's grendelmage, you poncy moron, and if you don't stay out of my bed then I just might!'

'I wasn't in your bed,' Draco sneered.

'I should have had Colin take a picture, then everyone else could be visually assaulted by your _wand_.'

'You filthy mudblood!' Draco's cool was gone. 'I suppose I should congratulate you on involving McGonagall in your stupid scheme, she certainly acted like she wanted a piece of this.' He gestured to himself.

'Oh please, no witch would ever want a piece of you.' She retorted, the reference to McGonagall not registering in her mind.

'Why don't you tell that to Ginny?'

'You leave Ginny alone!'

'I will, as soon as she stops trying to 'Kedavra me in the hallways!'

Hermione lowered her book, frowning.

'What are you talking about?'

'You planned it so well, didn't you, little miss cleverclogs? Get the little Weasley to try and top me in the corridor so your precious McGonagall can step in to save the day and accost me herself.'

'If people want to accost you, Malfoy,' Hermione replied, incredulous, 'it's because you're so irritating.'

'You've gone round the school spreading a bunch of silly rumours about me, and you've got a whole group of people to act like they want the Malfoy, and I'm fed up with it, OK?'

'Want the Malfoy?' Hermione repeated, simultaneously amused and confused.

'You know. Like they're in love with me or something.' He pouted moodily at the opposite bookcase. 'I didn't serenade you in the courtyard and I haven't been anywhere near your bed.' He glanced back at her. 'Oh, thanks a bunch for telling Snape I was hassling you,' he added on, sarcastic.

'You were in my bed.' Hermione put the book on an adjacent table and folded her arms. 'You did serenade me in the courtyard. You even floated up to my window the night you broke up with me at the ball.' Hermione paused, thinking. 'That's a thing. How did you float to my window? How did you overcome the wards?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Hermione narrowed her eyes, then took two steps towards him. She placed her hands on either side of his face and forced his gaze to hers.

'Say it again.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Hermione released him and took a step back, looking pensive.

'I don't think you're lying.' Her eyes moved back to his. 'Then what's going on?'

The pair exchanged notes on the week's events. Draco had cringed at her recollections of his romantic displays, and enjoying the feeling of power, she had slightly exaggerated his actions. He still denied it, convincingly, and somehow it made sense in her mind. _After all, how could Draco suddenly possess magic that even Dumbledore wasn't capable of? Although..._ she corrected herself, _perhaps Dumbledore doesn't levitate because he doesn't want to, it's not that he can't..._

Draco regaled her with his story and Hermione suspected that he was also embellishing the facts, with such extreme displays of emotion from Ginny seeming impossible. Something else clicked in her mind.

'Wait,' she interrupted him. 'Who specifically was infatuated with you?'

'You want a list?' Draco asked, seeming smug. Hermione nodded. 'Well...'

'And go in order.'

'Ginny. McGonagall. Colin. Then there was a group... Katie Bell, maybe Lavender. One of the Parvati twins. I didn't get a good look at them.'

'And no-one else?' Hermione asked. Draco shook his head. 'Draco... these are all Gryffindors.'


	13. Chapter 13

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Hermione moved down the stairs with purpose, a perplexed Draco stumbling after her. He struggled to keep pace as she moved into the castle dungeons. 'Where are we going?' He pleaded, following her blindly. She didn't reply but looked particularly pleased. The pair came to a halt in a non-descript section of corridor, decorated by a single painting of a fruit bowl.

'Everyone started acting weird after breakfast the other day.' She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to pick up her train of thought. Draco shrugged,

'OK.'

'Draco,' she rolled her eyes. 'What happened at breakfast?'

'Nothing. All the flowers stopped...' there was a flash of realisation behind his eyes, and Hermione smiled. 'It was something in the flowers.' Her smile faded.

'The flowers hit everyone, yet only Gryffindors seem to be obsessed with you. So what did the Gryffindors do that everyone else didn't?' He looked back at her, unsure. 'They ate breakfast from the Gryffindor table.'

'But Professor McGonagall would eat with the other teachers...' Hermione nodded,

'Except she came down to talk to one of the first years, and took some toast from our table.' She moved her hand forwards to tickle the pear, causing the entrance to the school kitchens to appear. The kitchens were a bustle of noisy elves, clattering silverware and boiling pans. Draco trailed through the doorway after her and nearly tripped over a house elf with a large silver tureen. He balanced himself against Hermione whilst the elf apologised and backed away.

'How are we going to find anything in here?' He asked, watching the proceedings wide-eyed. Hermione smiled,

'Dobby?' She called. Within moments, a proud elf clad in a purple turtleneck appeared before them.

'Miss Hermione!' Dobby exclaimed. 'It is a pleasure to see you again.' Dobby's eyes fell on Draco, and the elf twitched uncomfortably, suppressing an urge to bow. Hermione called back his attention, removing the stigma of seeing his former master.

'Dobby, I need to ask about breakfast two days ago.' Dobby nodded,

'There was much food gone to waste. I could get you something, if you like. Cheese platter?' He offered happily.

'No, Dobby,' Hermione knelt down. 'Did anyone come into the kitchens, that morning? Anyone unexpected?' Dobby glanced up at Draco, who looked distinctly uneasy, then back to Hermione.

'Well yes, Miss Hermione.'

'Who was it?'

'Why, it was Master Draco,' the elf's eyes darted back to Draco, then to the floor in obeisance.

'What did Draco do, Dobby?'

'He was most interested in the butter dishes of a table, Miss Hermione, although I'm not quite sure why.'

'Was this the Gryffindor table?' She asked. Dobby nodded.

'Why would you let him... I mean, _me_ ,' he corrected, 'do that?' Dobby seemed to frown.

'You were always the nicest to me in your family, Master Draco, and I knew you were doing no harm.'

'Harm enough,' Draco scoffed under his breath. Dobby looked confused between the pair.

'Thank you, Dobby.' Hermione offered, straightening. When Draco wasn't forthcoming with his thanks, she elbowed him in the side. He grunted a thank you and they both exited the kitchens. As the wall closed up behind them, she turned to Draco.

'If that wasn't you, someone pretending to be you is walking around this castle. I'd bet they put a love potion in the butter, and all those affected had buttered toast that morning.' Draco frowned,

'Why, though?'


	14. Chapter 14

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

'What do we do?' Draco asked as the pair reached the entrance to the library. Hermione was struck by how vulnerable he looked, now he knew that someone had stolen and abused his identity. 'How long does polyjuice potion last?'

'We don't know that they're using polyjuice potion.' Hermione was still entangled in her own thoughts, distracted by some crucial piece of information that she was certain she knew. Something she'd read, or something she'd been told was dancing at the edge of her mind, just within grasp.

'I need to look up a few things in the library.' Concerned by his expression, she gave him a weak smile. 'Don't worry about it. We'll sort everything out.'

'I know,' he gave her an appreciative smile, 'you're used to getting out of scrapes like this.'

Hermione left him in the corridor, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading out from her abdomen at his words. It was nice to be believed in, even if the reality was that she was as confused as him.

* * *

Draco was walking back towards the Syltherin dormitories when a voice called him to a halt. He glanced back and saw Ron stalking towards him. The wizard looked mad, his robes pushed up to his elbows. 'Oi, Malfoy!'

'If it isn't the missing link,' Draco called back, quickly scanning the corridor for any senior students or teachers. Thankfully, most of the others were still in the grounds watching the Quidditch match.

Ron's pace picked up speed and Draco folded his arms. The red-head stopped a few feet away.

'You've got my sister in tears.' Ron accused.

'Do you expect me to apologise?' Draco sneered back. Ron suddenly moved forward and he stumbled back in response, expecting a punch. Instead he was pushed against the wall, Ron pinning him against the cold stone, his face only inches away. 'What are you going to do?' Draco asked, trying not to show his fear.

'Something I should have done a long time ago.' Draco closed his eyes, wincing in preparation of the hit.

It wasn't the kind of contact he'd expected.

Ron's lips pushed against Draco's, hot and clumsy, while his hand moved down to caress his neck. Horrified, Draco pushed the boy away and fell to the floor. Ron stood over him, blushing, then turned on his heel and left.

Draco watched the red-head walk back down the corridor and shuddered. Hermione needed to sort this out before things got further out of hand.

* * *

'I've found it,' Hermione dropped the large tome onto the library table, startling Draco. Her eyes focused on the pale lines on his cheek, the hint of a bruise from when she'd slapped him, but she quickly moved her attention back to the book in front of them.

'What have you got?' He asked cheerfully, lighting up at her presence. She opened the book to chapter eight, sending a flurry of dust particles into the air, then pointed at a passage.

'I knew I'd read something in Hogwarts: a History about the Gryffindor common room. Do you remember how your fake-self overcame the wards to get to the dormitories?' He looked back at her, puzzled.

'Fake-self?' He repeated, questioning.

'The guy going round the castle pretending to be you.' She explained, 'we should differentiate or it's going to get very confusing.' His brow furrowed. 'Anyway, he can't be using polyjuice potion to look like you. The book says that the wards work on all living males, so even if he were pretending to be say, me, the wards wouldn't let him in.'

'So who's pretending to be me?'

'Not who, what. The _thing_ pretending to be you, well, it can't be alive.'

'I don't understand.' Storms raged behind his eyes, as if the world were shattering around him.

'Whatever it is, it has to be some kind of dark artefact. It's not a real person.' He frowned, staring down at the table and Hermione felt her heart twinge. 'I thought you'd be happy. We're a bit closer to dealing with the problem.'

'I need to go,' Draco pushed himself up from the table and abandoned her. Hermione's eyes followed him as he moved through the stacks towards the exit.

It was only then that she realised that earlier, Draco had shown no signs of damage on his face. Why should he? She hadn't slapped the real Draco - she'd slapped the imposter.


	15. Chapter 15

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Hermione's hands ached. She had been moving around the Gryffindor common room all evening, surveying students on their breakfast choices over the past few days. It was the only logical option to determine how big a problem Draco was going to have on his hands, at least until the love potion wore off. Based on Ginny's continued shunning of her, it seemed that there were definitely a few students still in the throes of Malfoy-lust.

Harry and Ron were the last on her list to survey, being the last to return from the grounds. The pair sat down on the sofa in front of the fire, Harry dumping a bag of soiled Quidditch robes onto the floor. She moved across to take the tweed armchair, manoeuvring her clipboard so she might write comfortably. 'I'm taking a survey...'

'Ugh, this isn't another SPEW thing, is it?' Ron interrupted.

'No, Ronald,' she narrowed her eyes. 'What have you two had for breakfast since Thursday?'

'The flower prank stopped me from eating anything on Thursday,' Harry said with a shrug. 'Yesterday? I had some pancakes with maple syrup.'

'And this morning?' Hermione asked, placing a cross against Harry's name.

'Scrambled egg and bacon.'

'Ron?'

'Um, a fried breakfast on Thursday. Fried breakfast Friday.' He paused for a moment to think, then nodded his head. 'And a fried breakfast this morning.' Hermione frowned.

'Did you have toast with your fried breakfast?'

'Well, no... it's a fried breakfast,' Ron replied, as if it were obvious. Clearly, it wasn't for Hermione. 'I had fried bread,' he explained.

'So neither of you had any toast from the table?' The pair stared back at her, slightly confused.

'Is there something going on?' Harry asked, intrigued.

'Oh, of course not.' Hermione waved her quill noncommittally. 'I just want to see how much bread the castle gets through. Goodnight.' She left the pair and headed up to her dorm. Ron glanced back at Harry,

'She's mental, that one.'

* * *

Draco's studying was interrupted as the door to his chamber opened, then closed itself. He was hardly surprised when the head and shoulders of Hermione appeared from thin air, floating besides him. She pouted over his shoulder at his work.

'You've got it wrong. They were never able to prove that Rasputin was treating the prince with wolfsbane.' Draco angled himself in his chair to face her.

'Tell that to the Great Wizards Council of 1918.'

'Their trial was inconclusive.'

'Only because the Bolshevik's killed his patient.'

'That was the Russian revolution, not Rasputin,' Hermione scoffed.

'No smoke without fire.'

'You can't write that. He was never charged.' Draco smiled, enjoying the effect that the debate was having on her.

'Doesn't mean he's innocent.' Hermione pursed her lips. 'Don't tell me how to do my homework, Granger, and I won't tell you how to do yours.' He moved his quill forward to point at her, brushing the exposed skin above the invisibility cloak. 'Stealing from Potter again, are we?' She narrowed her eyes and moved away, dropping the cloak on his bed. She was dressed in pyjamas once more, this time a blue cami-and-shorts set decorated with flittering Cornish pixies. Hermione sat down on the edge of the mattress, crossing her legs. Draco twisted fully, leaning back against his desk with a devil-may-care expression. 'To what do I owe the honour?'

'I may have made a mistake earlier.' She pouted. 'I found some useful information in the library. You were in there doing your homework, so I told you what I found.'

'You didn't tell me anything...'

'Exactly.' Hermione watched the realisation hit Draco.

'You told him,' he said in disbelief. ' _You told him that we were onto him.'_ He shook his head. _'_ You couldn't tell it wasn't me?'

'You do realise you two look exactly the same,' she replied, annoyed at his tone. 'But perhaps I should have been able to tell the difference, fake-you is much nicer than the real you.' This silenced Draco and he stared down at the floor, pensive.

'What did you tell him?'

'He's not a him.'

'He's a she?' Draco asked, confused.

'No, Draco, he's a _what_ _._ He's not alive. Nothing alive is capable of the magic I saw him use, or overcoming the ancient wards on the dormitories. He's a thing.'

'What kind of a thing?'

'I don't know,' she admitted. Draco sighed, dropping his quill onto the desk behind him.

'So I suppose this is another late-night study session?' Hermione shrugged,

'Two can work faster than one, even at your reading speed.'

'You're sleeping in your own bed this time,' he folded his arms. 'I'm not taking the floor again.' His tone of voice suggested a resigned anger at the situation, but in reality, he was secretly pleased.

* * *

Author's note: fried bread = eggy bread = French toast. Soak the bread in some egg then chuck it in the frying pan. Delicious.


	16. Chapter 16

The Harry Potter Universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

Hermione picked up the copy of ' _Cursed_ _Artefacts and Where to Find Them_ ' with a look of distaste. Draco noticed and smirked back at her. 'I can't believe it actually came in handy.'

'We don't know if it will yet,' she replied, flipping through the pages. 'Have you found anything?' Draco shook his head, still skimming the pages of ' _Black Magic for Dummies_ '. It had been at least two hours since the witch showed up in his chamber and forced him into the impromptu study session. Admittedly, he'd been searching through his stack of books half-heartedly, his eyes often drifting over to the stretched-out figure on his bed. Hermione was certainly more interesting than trying to figure out the identity of imposter-Malfoy. Once again his eyes began to trail up her form, starting from her ankle-socks and slowly working their way upwards. Hermione sighed and flung the book back down onto the bed, interrupting his gaze around waist-level. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and faced him. 'Ok,' she ran her fingers through her hair, causing the curls to stand out more around her face. 'We can figure this out. This all started after the ball, right?'

'Right.' Draco replied, abandoning any pretence of looking through his book.

'And the first time I saw him, he was wearing the costume from the ball as well. So...' she bit her lip, thinking. Draco felt the excitement twisting around his abdomen - it was one of his favourite expressions on her. 'Whoever set this _thing_ on you, must have done it whilst you were still in costume as well. I'm guessing it must mimic you completely, at least at the start.'

'So he's not wearing my costume anymore?'

'Um...' Hermione blushed, remembering the encounter in her dormitory. 'No. He isn't wearing the Yule ball costume anymore.' Draco picked up on her embarrassment.

'He's wearing something worse?' He asked, horrified. 'What's he wearing?'

'Nothing, Draco.'

'No, I need to know. What's he wearing?' Hermione blushed harder.

'He wasn't wearing anything, Draco.' He paled.

'You mean...' Hermione nodded. He suddenly found it difficult to make eye-contact with the witch and glanced back at the textbook. 'Did you see...'

'No,' Hermione quickly insisted. It was a lie, but it was what Draco needed to hear. He let out a sigh of relief.

'Ok, good.'

'If a magical artefact was going to copy you, it would need to either see you or get some of your DNA at the time you were wearing the outfit.' She continued, quickly changing the subject away from Malfoy's body.

'I think I would have noticed being accosted by a dark wizard after you left me,' Draco replied, narrowing his eyes. Hermione threw up her hands.

'I don't know then. Are you sure you didn't meet anyone?'

'No, after you left nothing happ... oh.' Draco fell silent.

'Oh? Oh, what?' He grimaced.

'I may have smashed that mirror in the room of requirement. You don't think it was a dark artefact, do you?' Hermione uncrossed her legs and scooted up the bed to lean against the wall, needing the cool stone against her back to keep her focus. Draco could be awfully distracting sometimes. She frowned.

'It wasn't a dark artefact, per se...'

'How do you know?' Draco interrupted. Hermione sighed,

'It was the Mirror of Erised.' He looked back at her blankly. 'It shows you what you want most.' Still nothing. 'You looked into it, remember, and you said you saw me?' She felt silly for pointing it out but Draco didn't seem uncomfortable by the accusation that she was his heart's desire.

'Oh,' he grimaced again, but this time the expression was tinged with embarrassment. 'I didn't actually look in it.' Hermione's face fell. 'I thought it was just a mirror,' he quickly explained, 'I didn't think it meant anything.'

Hermione seemed genuinely hurt and pulled her legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees.

'Hermione?' Draco asked, tentatively. He got up from the desk and went to sit on the edge of the bed. 'What did you see?'

She looked on the verge of tears.

'I saw you,' she admitted. 'I saw myself with a boy who wanted to be with me.'

Any enjoyment about her proximity was crushed, all the fuzzy feelings in his abdomen shattered by her admission. Had he ever really considered Hermione's feelings, in his games with her?


	17. Chapter 17

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

'I didn't realise you felt that way.' Draco stared down at his shoes. He was sure Hermione was crying now, but didn't want to make her aware that he knew.

'I don't,' she spat. 'I can't help how I feel. It's some silly teenage infatuation that will just fade out. It doesn't mean I actually like you.' He saw her brush her cheeks with the back of her hand in his periphery. He bit the inside of his cheek, dejected.

'No. Nobody really likes me.' Draco muttered to himself. Hermione grabbed the pillow from the top of his bed and whacked him round the head with it. He fell forwards, only remaining seated by grabbing the edge of the mattress, and turned to glare back at her. She was on her knees, gripping the pillow with an almighty fury burning behind her eyes.

'You don't let anyone get close enough to like you. I don't want to hear about how sad your little life is, Malfoy.' She dropped the pillow onto the bed. 'Oh, woe is me, woe is me, nobody loves me, nobody except mummy and daddy and Pansy...' she said in a high pitched voice, trying to imitate Draco.

'That's not what I sound like,' he narrowed his eyes.

'If you want to be Harry, Draco, then you need to stop being so bloody selfish!'

Something inside him snapped and he leapt up, pushing Hermione down onto the bed. He hovered over her, their lower halves pressed together, his hands pinning her arms down.

'You know nothing about my life, Granger.' He growled.

She lay underneath him, silent. The tense space between them was broken only by their breathing, the two of them completely lost for words. Draco could feel the warmth from her body seeping into his, making him feel alive. There were so many things he wanted to do, so many things he'd hated himself for wanting to do. Hermione was equally conflicted. She had fantasised about such an encounter for so long, she didn't know how to respond now it had arrived.

Draco made the first move, releasing her and falling sideways onto the mattress. They now lay parallel to one another, all contact broken, both feeling as if they had finished a marathon without moving.

All that potential lost.

'Hermione, you and I both know this can't go anywhere.' Draco whispered. She didn't answer. 'You don't want to be with me. I'd ruin your life.'

'You're ruining it now,' she replied, summoning the energy to face him.

'We get rid of this _thing_ ,' he suggested, 'and we don't have to see one another anymore. We won't tempt one another anymore.'

Hermione was too hurt to register his use of 'we'. The silence rose up once more, the tension between them palpable. Draco stared at the cracks in the ceiling, taking the time he needed to suppress any emotion. _Holding up family tradition_ , he thought to himself sardonically.

'We don't know what _he_ is,' Draco said, breaking the silence.

'No,'

'But we do know what he wants.' Draco propped himself up, supporting his head with his right arm. 'You.'

'What are you saying?' She asked, avoiding his gaze.

'I released the Draco who wants to be with you from the mirror. If we're going to find him and deal with him, we need to lure him out. We need to give him what he wants.' He looked at her suggestively.

'Me.' Hermione was resigned.

'We get him out in the open and get rid of him. Then we can stop... this.'


	18. Chapter 18

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

 _This is what you get when you leave Malfoy in charge of the plan..._ Hermione thought wistfully to herself. She had spent the last three hours sat under an oak near the Quidditch pitch, an area secluded enough that the fake-Draco might approach her without suspicion. She'd spent her time as bait reading up on wandlore, but her book was now finished, the temperature had dropped and the wind was picking up. Enough was enough. His plan to lure out the fake-Draco had clearly failed.

Hermione got up to leave, shoving the volume into her beaded purse, which she then returned to her pocket. She assumed Draco had noticed her decision, as he appeared from his hiding place, the Slytherin changing rooms. As she got closer however, she noticed that his robes were dishevelled, a manic look in his eyes.

'I want to go back inside,' she began to moan, afraid he was going to suggest they wait another hour.

'I've got him,' Draco replied with a frenzied smile. Hermione was taken aback but had little time to process - Draco grabbed her wrist and began to drag her into the changing rooms. True enough, a second Malfoy was inside - the boy was unconscious, his head lolling over his chest. His wrists were bound together and a gag placed over his mouth. For what purpose, Hermione wasn't sure, although they certainly hadn't discussed how to 'deal' with the imposter. Draco released her wrist and grinned at her. 'It took a bit of work but I've got him.'

'What are we going to do with him?' She asked weakly. She knew - and could clearly see - that there couldn't realistically be two Dracos, yet she found it hard to disconnect her feelings from one of the boys. She didn't think she would be able to disconnect enough to destroy the copy. Draco picked up on her tone and frowned.

'I thought you'd be happy.' It was an echo of her words to the fake-Draco in the library. 'He's the source of our problems. Don't you want him taken care of?'

'Well, yes...' she bit her lip, 'but what do we do?'

Draco suddenly took both of her hands, clasping them between his.

'We could throw him in the lake.' He suggested.

'But...' Hermione's brow furrowed. 'I don't want to do anything cruel to him.'

'We have to kill him,' Draco insisted, his gaze intense. 'If we don't, we'll never be happy.'

The bound Draco came-to slowly, swaying slightly before he had the strength to look up at the pair. His eyes widened, staring fixedly at her, and he began to struggle against his bindings. He attempted to shout, but all words were muffled against the gag. The pain and horror in his expression was enough to make Hermione breathless. Her heart felt like it was cracking in two. The unbound Draco released her hands, his own moving up to her face, bringing her eyes back to his. He caressed her cheek.

'Hermione,' he said softly, barely audible above the other Draco's smothered screams.

His fingers moved along her cheekbone to intertwine with her hair and he leant closer, his lips brushing hers. She needed little more encouragement, leaning into the kiss. It turned from sweet to passionate within seconds, all the pent-up desire and longing released in a haze of teenage hormones. Draco pushed her slowly backwards until she stumbled against the bench which ran around the edge of the changing room. He caught her, his hands moving down to lift her up above the bench so that she was straddling his hips, her back firmly against the changing room wall. His mouth was insistent and Hermione felt herself succumbing to his hunger, forgetting about their surroundings.

The bound Draco began to fight harder against his bindings and slammed his back against the opposite bench, causing a sports chest to tip over the edge. The chest opened on impact with the floor, spilling its contents. Draco released Hermione slowly, kissing her tenderly a few more times after their embrace ended. He was clearly as affected as she, a light blush in his cheeks, his breath hot against her neck. Hermione was lowered slowly back down to the ground, her Draco brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He moved over to pick up one of the beater's bats which had toppled onto the floor and gave it a quick swing in the air to test its weight, then offered it to her.

'You should do it.' She took the bat uncertainly.

'Do what?'

'Break him,' Draco urged.

'I don't think I can,' Hermione looked down at the ground, the bat dropping limply in her grip. The bound Draco began to shout against his gag once more, trying desperately to free his hands. Her Draco slapped him round the back of his head, attempting to silence him.

'Shut up!' He growled. He took a step back towards Hermione, standing in front of her and cupping her face to make their gazes meet. 'Hermione, you have to.' He leant forward and kissed her right cheek. 'He's not me.' He kissed her left cheek. 'He's not real.'

The impact of the slap had knocked the positioning of the gag, allowing the bound Draco to tug it down with his teeth.

'Hermione, no!' He pleaded, panting. 'He's not the real me!'

The Draco in front of her narrowed his eyes at the outburst but didn't look back, his eyes focused solely on hers.

'Don't listen to him. He's trying to trick you.'

'Hermione!' The bound Draco pleaded again.

Hermione was suddenly unsure of herself. 'How do I know?' She asked. Her Draco didn't answer, his gaze imploring. She dropped the bat to the floor and moved her hand up to caress Draco's face. He leant into the touch, his own hand moving up to cover her own. Hermione moved her thumb slowly across his left cheek, removing the make-up which concealed the fractures from their first meeting. She recoiled, stumbling back and falling onto the bench.

Mirror-Draco was pained by her reaction, his eyes welling up from the rejection.

'Hermione,' he reached out for her with one hand and she flinched.

'You're not real,' she whispered, terrified. He began to shake in anger.

'I am real!' He snapped, moving across to her and lifting her up by the collar of her robes into a standing position. 'I was there when you got on the train at Kings Cross. I was there when you came out of the Chamber of Secrets. I've always been there, Hermione!'

'Those are someone else's memories,' Hermione sobbed, trying to pull herself free.

'What difference does it make?' He let go of her robes and pointed threateningly at the bound Draco. 'He'll never love you, Hermione, but I can! He doesn't want to be with you and I do.' He moved back towards her and picked up the bat. 'I'd make you so happy.'

Bound Draco now hung his head in shame and Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek. Mirror-Draco wiped it away, then offered her the bat.

'I'd love you forever,' he pleaded, 'if you'd only let me.'

Her hands remained limply at her sides, her eyes unable to meet his.

'Hermione,' he reached for her hands, placing the bat in her grip. 'You know what you have to do.'

She moved his gaze up to his, now resolute. He smiled at her decision and led her to the bound Draco, who looked up at her in defeat. Hermione raised the bat, both hands moving into a swinging grip. Their eyes met.

'I forgive you,' he whispered, his eyes closing in preparation of his death. He stopped trying to free himself from his bindings and began to slow his breathing.

'Goodbye, Draco,' she replied, her muscles tensed for the impact.

* * *

Author's note: this has been a bit of a rush job as I've been so tied for time lately. I might make a few edits later to some of the sentence so it flows a bit better.


	19. Chapter 19

The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming ownership.

* * *

The bat swung true, meeting its target with all the force Hermione could muster. Draco's expression never changed from one of love, even as he shattered into a million glass pieces. The shards danced across the floor and against her robes like a final caress.

The imposter was gone.

She knelt down and attempted to remove the binding from Draco's wrists. He stared back at her in awe. 'You didn't choose him.'

'No,' Hermione gave up on trying to untie the knots and removed her wand, using a quick _reducto_ to turn the bindings to dust. Draco rubbed his wrists appreciatively.

'But why not?' Her eyes moved up to his. 'He could have loved you.'

'He wasn't you.' She pushed herself up into a standing position, then offered a hand to Malfoy. He took it gratefully, lurching to his feet.

'He looked like me.' Hermione smiled weakly,

'You're more than just your good looks, you know.' He smiled in return and sat down on the bench with a sigh. He patted the seat next to him and she shook her head. The destruction of the counterfeit-Malfoy had hurt her deeply, tearing further at the emotional damage the real Draco had already inflicted on her heart. Draco's expression became shielded, as he realised what the consequences of the encounter had been.

'Is this it, then?' He asked, his voice barely able to disguise his pain. Hermione didn't trust herself with words and instead gave a quick nod. The rejection had upset him, but was nothing in comparison to the effect of his multiple rejections on her. If they stayed friendly, it would only happen again. She didn't know how much more she could take. Without a second glance at her, Draco pushed himself up and left the changing rooms.

Hermione fell onto the place where he had sat, tears streaming freely down her face.

A shadow moved across the silvered glass on the floor and she paused in her sobbing. A flash of white, then green, and she saw at least part of her heart's desire reflected back in the largest shard. She moved down, cupping the fragment between her hands. _Her_ Draco stared back at her, his gaze everything she needed. Everything she wanted.

* * *

Hermione walked slowly back towards the castle, her eyes fixed firmly on the green eyes which stared back out from the glass.

'It does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live.' Hermione jumped, the glass slipping out of her grip and shattering into smaller pieces against the ground. He was lost forever. She turned back to Dumbledore, who had somehow appeared from behind her, despite the grounds being practically empty.

'Miss Granger,' he acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. The headmaster wandered away from her, back in the direction of the lake.

She stared down at the cracked silver, then moved her gaze up to the castle. She finally felt free.

* * *

THE END

Want more? Check out the precursor to this story - Hermione Granger and the Surprise Editor

Or, check out the sequel - Hermione Granger and the Confidential Source

Did you enjoy this? What did you like/hate? Please leave a pm/review if you have the time, I really appreciate it!


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